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France, Un voyage magnifique!

J’adore France. C’est un pays belle. I took some photographs, which aren’t brilliant, but will always be part of my memories in France. And they just don’t seem enough to capture the beauty of all that is seen by the naked eye.


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An art lover!

Here are a few drawings I have done recently just because it’s been a while I hadn’t grabbed my paints to work through my imagination on to paper. Thought I’d share!


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Ashes to Ashes.

Beneath her consciousness



A memory lay, deep and dark. Perhaps as dark as the room which withheld it.

Below layers;

Of trampled soil, of forgotten dates, of fears of loss, of childhood memories,

Of lost property, of spiritual calls, of discarded words; was him.

On by one, it peeled away,

One layer,

After another,



She exposed him to herself.

Ignited by the spark, he rose avidly, like a phoenix that rose from the ashes,

Wailing at its rebirth, his relentless vibes streamed through the sky, wings which spread Majestically, prepared to take flight.

Captivated, she was his prisoner this time. The music of the phoenix hypnotized her senses, tuning her to a world unseen.

Came a wailing,

Like a whistling breeze

Soaring wings

Like flapping of a veil

She stood somewhere, open ground, dew and mist. New visions spread each time as the phoenix spread its wings, soaring higher and higher. Yet she remained still, out of fear, out of love, out of hope, for a glimpse of him.

And there he was, statuesque, beyond the haze, a grey silhouette, still and silent.

Under the umbrella of Unison, she approached him,

One step

After another,



Through the haze she reached out her hands.

Yet music began to fade, her beloved was falling,

Like a rusting metal, it’s glimmering coat corroding

Exposing the rawness hidden underneath her dreams.

Nothing was felt.

Nothing heard.

How abrupt was the parting, merciless, unjust.

Empty space. Crispier ground.

Beneath her feet, were ashes, black ashes.

SOLD, by Zana Muhsen

This story has made its place in the unforgettable list of books I’ve read. While I want to try to avoid all the cliché s to describe it, it was truly moving, shocking, and emotionally gripping story of two teenage sisters whose fate was decided by the man of the house.

The two sisters are brought up in Britain. As their Yemeni father starts to question their whereabouts and their freedom, the sisters don’t realize he will go as far as selling them off to his Yemeni friends. Their father and his friends form layers of deception for the two young girls and before they know it, their exotic holiday in Yemen turns out to be lifelong imprisonment in scorching heats of a remote village.

Zana Muhsen and Nadia Muhsen; the older sister is a shade for her young one. Throughout their struggle, Zana makes Nadia dream of the day when they will be free. While Nadia is gentle enough to be walked over by the overpowering men, Zana continues to resist.

This real-life story makes you see a woman’s power which is of pure love, whether it’s for her sister, for her child, for her brother or anyone who gives love in return. It’s a story that shows you a real woman cannot be molded the way an over-powering man wants, if she forgets to fight for herself, she doesn’t forget to fight for her loved ones.

The end isn’t complete, Zana leaves behind Nadia, but she keeps on fighting for her sister and their children. What a complex web of love these women form on their journey of life, that even freedom of their body isn’t enough to quench their thirst, their children become a part of them. They are never whole again without their children.

It’s awkward to call a person’s real-life story, a ‘must-read’ book. While these nightmares are coming in peoples’ lives all around the world, It’s important to connect, to understand and make a change in our mindsets. To bring a better future for those around us and a better place to live.

Postcard Designs: Pakistan

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Thought I’d share my drawings. It’s part of the project to raise funds for Pakistan Floods.

I took the pictures from webcam so quality isn’t so great, but well at least it adds colour.

The picture with children says:” The Brilliance of their eyes, showed eternal light” These children were photograph by Pakistan Youth Alliance’s members who have made several deliveries to the effected areas.

The mother and child photo: “She smiled at the heavens, for sparing the diamonds in her arms.”

The Alchemist

Paulo Coehlo wrote a heart-felt piece! I haven’t read any other of his works. As for this one, it  just made me feel like, everything on earth that is raw has a soul, even though we don’t believe it. We read how every matter has a vibration, or energy. Even solids have minute vibrations. I have read in a religious text (probably Quran) that “everything on earth praises God”, the trees, water, everything which has a mass. It is perhaps this vibration which (for me) proves that everything on Earth praises Him. I made this connection while studying about ‘matter’ in GCSE. And last year, after having a very meaningful crossing on the ferry, observing the sea, I wrote a poem, the sea is alive, the sky is alive, earth is alive (which I will probably publish here). Now after reading this book, it gave alot of weight to my thoughts. Soul of the World. Earth really is alive.

Recently I’ve started underlining meaningful words from the books I read. And this book carried a lot of beautiful thoughts that we could all ponder upon. I hope things are still achievable today, as they were hundreds of years ago. Man had so much more freedom then. Now, with the laws, the unemployment, the suffocating traffic, the strict rules of crossing borders, it feels as if we might be losing our freedom. However it’s true, what makes us really distracted from our destiny is not believing. Faith is the most important asset to destiny.

Here are a few quotes from the book:

“When each day is the same as the next, it’s because people fail to recognize the good things that happen in their lives every day that the sun rises.”

“He never realized that people are capable, at any time in their lives, of doing what they dream of.”

“Whoever you are, or whatever it is that you do, when you really want something, it’s because that desire originated in the soul of the universe. It’s your mission on earth.”

“Everyone, when they are young know what their destiny is.”

“When you possess great treasures within you, and try to tell others of them, seldom are you believed.”

The Devil Wears Prada

My head feels fuzzy and I’ve just reached the present grounds after being engaged with a novel for past four hours. I have to say the best feeling I get from a book is being so indulged in it that I lose track of the chapters. Also the attitude brought about by an gripping story, reading past midnight till you get to the core of things, or as far as your eyelids can muster the strength to remain separated.

I finished The Devil Wears Prada last night, so I thought to write something about it as a record. I believe even fiction has some resemblance to real world or some moral to the story. Will not be wasting my time writing the storyline of the book (oh so miranda priestly!). It showed how we give ourselves up to be swallowed by the world of materialism and career concerns, not noticing when our relations fall apart. The higher your worldly aim is, the more people you have to tread over

to get there. This doesn’t mean you shouldn’t follow your dreams. Not at all. Just make sure you’re choosing the right path to get to your destination. Sh

ort cuts can be just an illusion. So when you reach the top of the ladder, and look around to see that no one is by your side, it may not all seem worth the effort.

The book may put you off to get into fashion orientated career, its definitely a good read for the magazine-cum-weight loss ladies. =)

Tear drop!

She closed her eyes for some moments. And thought of him. A tear dropped! Her eyes opened, her senses had awakened, something that she didn’t want. No memory of his was ever to pass across her mind again. Why was it so hard to repress the memory.

Another tear! What was she, an object of someone’s desire, or a human with a heart and soul. Could she not be loved back the same way. Why wasn’t her love as disperesed, or altered by other beings that crossed her path. Why had it become enchanted by only his presence.

And a word, an echo from him made her feel like she was walking on the canopy of clouds, the world under her feet, with fresh breeze touching her face. She could tip toe in her white dress and spin in circles, she could feel the softening of her mood and playing of the piano. What had awakened her this way, was her love.

Yet he had left her quietly. For another girl. And gave her the reason to repress the feelings he himself was determined to arouse in her. It wasn’t easy. Neither to accept the loss, nor reach out in thin air. Love can sometimes be a feeling as light as a floating feather, or a curse left after indulging into something forbidden.

Alif Allah, Daastan e ishq, Allahu

Music of Pakistan. It’s so beautiful, touches my soul , can’t stop listening to it.I’m addicted! LOVE IT! JUST LOVE IT!

Daastan e-ishq

Allah hu

Aik Alif

Breaking News

When the value of life
drops below freezing point
when they march under commands
like brain dead beings

when the sun rises to its peak
but there is feeble light
Dark times ahead
you call the future bright?

when news gives you immunity
violence converted to words
I know not who died
But I know to avoid that herd

like sheep slaughtered for meat
their deaths become statistics
a speech drives the issue further
they argue on who did this

a storm overtook that town
property and lives were lost
with children and women left to drown
poor people, don’t give a toss

I know this country is no more safe
where blasts are heard by a mile
more guns and bullets will calm it down
they say it’ll take a while

some call it war, some collateral damage
I am left to pick the description
it’s clear what happened
blood spilled and battered
yet media makes a vague depiction

there is no law, but many to eat
under powers they confide
foreign pressure, a victim, an oppressor
which town is safe to reside

with masks worn, souls torn
culprits roam undisturbed
it shouldn’t bother me, I’m away from it all
yet ignoring seems absurd

And tomorrow I wake up
with more breaking news,
more souls sold for money
One thing I know, human life is cheap
under evil forms of tyranny.